


The Gunslinger: The Search Begins

by toad_in_the_road



Series: The Mandalorian: A Western AU [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Adorable Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV), Alternate Universe - Western, Civil War, Confederate Army, Cowboys, Dragons, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, ManDadlorian, Mustangs, Native American/First Nations Culture, Native American/First Nations Legends & Lore, No one is surprised, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-American Civil War, Protective Din Djarin, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Western, but its still good!, confederates are the empire and evil, except baby yoda is a human, im gay, pack it up tremors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toad_in_the_road/pseuds/toad_in_the_road
Summary: Din Djarin,vaqueroextraordinaire, continues his trek across the land to search for the home of the mysterious, magical child he's been entrusted with.But danger lurks around every corner, and not everything is as it seems.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Peli Motto, Din Djarin & Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin & Peli Motto
Series: The Mandalorian: A Western AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601287
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Gunslinger: The Search Begins

**Author's Note:**

> hello my dears~
> 
> its so weird to be writing for this series again, and even weirder to be writing straight things. I have been writing consistently only gay shit since august, this is nuts
> 
> updates are tenatively on thursday or friday. dont hold me too that, i already have two books on a consistent update schedule and it's killing me
> 
> once again, i wanna ask that if i'm using Native American lore in a way that's offensive, please tell me. I did a TON of research, but im not immune to mistakes unfortunately. keep in mind that's the last thing I want to do, and please tell me any mistakes I make!
> 
> without further ado, let's begin~

The streets were empty, but the _vaquero_ knew his way around well, carefully pulling his massive gray mustang to a walk when they passed under the flickering street lamps. He could hear wild dogs, a plague on this particular town, growling in the shadows. But the dogs were too cautious to approach the light or anything that might not be an easy catch.

The child sitting with the Gunslinger seemed unconcerned, and even smiled widely when he was helped off the Razor Crest to go into a loud bar. Shouts and wails echoed from the inside of the establishment, and the Gunslinger grabbed the child’s hand after tying up the Crest. “Stay close.” He told them, but the child just smiled, always happy for physical contact.

The Gunslinger came to a stop in front of a tall man standing at the entrance. “I’m here to see Gor Koresh.” He said. 

The man looked at the Gunslinger, and then at the child, who smiled nervously, pressing closer against his surrogate father. After a tense moment, the man stepped aside. “Enjoy the fights.” He said, and pushed open the door for the Gunslinger and the child.

Immediately the noise inside grew exponentially louder, and the child winced. The Gunslinger went inside, ignoring the two men trying their damndest to stab each other with long knives on a makeshift ring, barbed wire outlining the ring. Both men were already covered in blood, though it was impossible to tell the source, or what made the injuries. Or if the blood was even their own. 

The Gunslinger ignored them, searching the crowd for a familiar face. He found it, and sat next to a large man with big eyes and thinning grey hair. The man didn’t even look at them. “You know,” He said, eyes fixed on the fight. “This is no place for a child.”

“Wherever I go, he goes.” The Gunslinger said, and the child pressed against him as if to prove a point. 

Gor Koresh chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”

“I’ve been quested to bring him to his people.” The Gunslinger said. One of the men stumbled, and grabbed the barbed wire by accident. He gave a strangled yell before lunging back at his opponent. “If I can locate other _vaqueros_ , they can help guide me. I’m told you know where to find them.”

Koresh frowned. “It’s uncouth to talk business immediately,” He scolded. “Just enjoy the entertainment.”

It wasn’t much entertainment, men fighting with knives to the cheers and jeers of a drunken crowd. “Bah! My man isn’t doing well,” Goresh cupped his hands over his mouth. “Kill him! Finish him!”

“I thought these fights weren’t to the death.” The Gunslinger said. 

“Well,” Goresh chuckled. “Sometimes they get carried away.”

One man sliced the other’s arm, only to get a fist to the face in return. “Do you gamble, _vaquero_?” Koresh asked.

“Not when it can be avoided.” The Gunslinger said. 

Koresh grinned. “Well, I’ll bet you the information you seek that he-” He pointed to one of the men. “Is going to die in the next minute and a half. And all you have to put up in exchange is your shiny little gold necklace.”

He tore his eyes away for the first time, greedy pupils resting on the kid’s golden Huitzilopochtli pendant, the lapis lazuli edges glinting even in the dim light. The kid followed Koresh’s gaze, and instantly shoved the pendant back into their shirt to hide it, the pendant resting next to their turquoise one, the only thing they had left from their people. 

“I’m prepared to pay you for the information,” The Gunslinger evenly. “I’m not leaving my fate up to chance.”

One man pushed the other down, the one that Koresh had assured the Gunslinger was going to die. “Nor am I.” Koresh said, and suddenly yanked a pistol out and shot the other man right before he could stab his opponent. The man stumbled, and then fell, dead, on top of his enemy. 

The Gunslinger started to stand, but within seconds, he was surrounded by pistols aimed at his head. The kid stiffened, grabbing the Gunslinger’s arm tightly. The bar broke out into screams and panic as people rushed for the exits following the gunshot. 

“Thank you for coming to me,” Koresh smiled, drawing back the hammer on his pistol, this time aiming it at the Gunslinger’s head. “Normally, I have to seek out remnants of you _vaqueros_ in your hidden hives to harvest your precious gold. Gold’s value only continues to rise, you know. I’ve grown fond of it.” His smile suddenly died. “Give it, now. Or I’ll peel it off his little corpse.”

“Tell me where the _vaqueros_ are and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.” The Gunslinger said, calm and still. 

“I thought you said you weren’t a gambler.” Koresh said. 

The kid looked up at the Gunslinger, a question in their eyes. Almost imperceptibly, the Gunslinger shook his head, and the kid smiled; their caretaker had this. They didn’t need his help.

“I’m not.” The Gunslinger said. 

In an instant, he was on his feet, and pushed the kid away. He swung his knife, stabbing the closest person and missing the bullets by inches. The kid dropped to the ground, crawling behind an overturned bench in a well-practiced move to watch the fight. 

The Gunslinger easily dispatched the rest of the goons, pausing only when he noticed Koresh running from the alley. 

Koresh wasn’t fast, and the Gunslinger grabbed his lariat from the Razor Crest’s saddle, swinging it out easily and looping it around Koresh’s legs. The gambler shrieked in alarm, thrashing uselessly when the Gunslinger pulled him back and over a lamppost, tying him up upside down. 

“Alright, stop, stop!” Koresh whimpered. “I’ll tell you where it is. But you must give me your word you won’t kill me!”

The Gunslinger paused. “I promise that you won’t die by my hand.” 

Koresh didn’t seem to notice the ominous phrasing, and sighed in relief. “The _vaquero_...they’re in Tatooine. Or at least, directly outside it.”

“What?” The Gunslinger asked. 

“The _vaquero_ I know of is right outside the town limits of Tatooine. A mine, or a mining community called Mos Pelgo.” Koresh grunted. 

“I’ve spent much time in Tatooine,” The Gunslinger said. “I’ve never heard of any _vaquero_.”

“My information is good, I tell you!” Koresh said desperately. “I swear!” He crossed himself, as though that made a difference. 

The Gunslinger regarded him for a long moment, and then motioned the kid next to him. He went back to the Razor Crest and boarded the mustang, helping the kid up as well. “Tatooine it is, then.” He decided, and the Crest snorted. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Koresh said, thrashing. “ _Vaquero_! You can’t leave me like this! Cut me down!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” The Gunslinger said, and looked back just long enough to draw his pistol and shoot out the streetlamp. Darkness swallowed Koresh, and the darkness was only punctuated by glowing red, rabid dog eyes. Hungry eyes.

“Wait, what are you doing?!” Koresh shouted as growls grew louder. “Stop, wait, wait! I can play! Stop, you can’t leave me here! No!”

The Gunslinger nudged the Razor Crest, and the trio disappeared into the desert night to the tune of screams and barks. 

*** *** ***

The Razor Crest was a good kind of tired when they finally rolled into Tatooine. The kind of tired where he wasn’t any meaner than usual, and simply wanted to take a long nap. Luckily, Din knew where he could oblige the mustang.

Peli Motto squinted when she saw the group trot into her square, looking up from a horse she had been fixing a horseshoe onto. “Well, hello to you too!” She patted the horse she had been with and went over to them. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

“The kid’s still here.” He said, and nudged them so they popped up from their relaxed position that had previously hidden them from Peli’s gaze before.

“Oh, thank God!” Peli grinned, and the kid slid off of the Crest, eager to soak up the attention from the woman. She immediately hugged him tightly, cooing over him. “This little guy had me worried sick! Come here, you little devil!” 

The kid grinned, and Peli laughed. “Looks like he remembers me! What’ll take for you to part with him, eh? Kidding! But not really.”

“I’m here on business,” Din said. “I need your help.”

“Oh, then, business you shall have,” Peli said. “Need me to watch this little monster while you seek out adventure?”

“I’ve been quested to bring him back to his people.” Din explained.

“Well,” Peli shrugged. “Can’t help you there. The only natives around are the Navajo, and we’d know if one of theirs went missing. Tight group, they are.”

“A _vaquero cabecilla_ has set me on my path,” Din said. “If I can locate another one of my kind, I can chart a path through a network of Tezcatlipocas.” 

“You’ve been the only _vaquero_ here for years.” Peli said. 

Din frowned. “Where’s Mos Pelgo? I was told there’s one there.”

“Boy,” Peli chuckled. “Haven’t heard that name in a while.”

“It’s not on any of the maps.” Din said.

“‘Cause it was wiped out by bandits,” Peli said. “Once the Confederacy fell apart, it was a free-for-all. I didn’t dare leave the town limits. Still don’t.”

“Can you tell me where it used to be?”

“Depends who’s asking. You wanna see it?” She went over to a tall drawer, opening it up and jumping back when all sorts of odds and ends spilled out, very few of them related to farriering. She dug around, managing to pluck a dusty map from the junk, and spread it across a table.

“This is a map of the area before the war,” Peli explained, tracing her finger along the thin river that ran through the desert. “There’s Tatooine, Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and at the foot of the mountains, Mos Pelgo.”

Din glanced at the mountains, but there was nothing there but scribbles. “There’s nothing there.”

“Well, it’s there,” Peli shrugged. “Or it used to be, anyway. Not much to speak of. It’s an old mining settlement. I think they were mining zinc or something, so it never really grew big like those gold towns do.”

“Think I could borrow this?” Din asked.

Peli chuckled. “Sure. Not much use to me. Just try not to get the kid killed, m’kay?”

*** *** ***

It wasn’t difficult to find the town if he followed the map. It was the only thing within miles other than the towering mountains, not much more than a string of buildings and mules, flicking their tails to unsuccessfully stave off flies in the late afternoon sun.

The Razor Crest tried to break out into a canter again, but Din managed to hold him back, already aware everyone was staring at him. He tied the mustang to a post, patting his shoulder. The Crest promptly pinned his ears back at Din, irritated with the praise.

The kid jumped off the Crest, pointing eagerly to a lizard that scuttled under a loose wooden board once it realized it had been spotted. “Later.” Din said, and the kid frowned, but followed Din into an empty, dusty bar.

The bartender, an old man with long, greying hair, glanced up, and slowly stopped cleaning out a glass, staring at Din. “...can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a _vaquero_.” Din said. 

“We don’t get many visitors in these parts,” The bartender said hesitantly, and Din couldn’t quite tell if he was lying or just nervous in his presence. “Can you describe him?”

Din blinked, thrown by the question. “Someone who looks like me.” He said, wondering if the bartender was messing with him.

“Mmm,” The bartender nodded. “You mean the Marshal?”

“Your Marshal wears a _vaquero_ pendant and scarf?” Din asked. 

“See for yourself.” The bartender nodded at the door.

Din turned, and froze, seeing someone standing in the entrance.

It was a tall man, his face partially obscured by a bright red scarf. He wore a copper pendant, carved intricately into the shape of a man covered in sores, his face screwed up in pain. Xipe Totec, the symbol of a different Tezcatlipoca. 

The pendant, Din noticed, was scuffed and chipped. Green rust was starting to show on it, as if it had not been for in a very long time. The red _vaquero_ stepped forward. “What brings you here, stranger?”

“I’ve been searching for you.” Din said.

“Well, now you found me,” The red _vaquero_ stepped up to the bar, and nodded. “Something strong for me and my friend here, Weequay, if you don’t mind.”

The bartender-Weequay-nodded, grabbing two shot glasses and filling them with an amber liquid. The red _vaquero_ nodded, and glanced at Din. “Join me for a drink?”

The red _vaquero_ grabbed the glasses, taking a seat at an open booth. Without a moment of hesitation, he yanked off the bandana. He was an older man, somewhere in his late forties, with silvery hair and a scraggly beard, with a fine layer of grime around his eyes where the bandana hadn’t protected him. He smiled, almost relaxed. “I’ve never met a real _vaquero_ ,” He chuckled, throwing back his shot. “Heard stories. Know you’re good at killing. Probably not too happy to see me with these things, huh? I’ve heard they carry a lot of weight with your people. So...I figure only one of us is walking out of here.”

He smiled again. “But then I see the little guy…” He nodded at the kid, who ducked behind a barstool bench shyly. “And I think, maybe I pegged you wrong.”

“Who are you.” Din said in a low voice. It wasn’t a question.

“Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo.” Cobb said. 

“Where did you get the pendant and bandana?” Din asked. 

“Bought it off some traders. Black market, obviously.” Cobb shrugged. 

“Hand it over.” Din ordered.

Cobb chuckled. “Look, pal, I’m sure you call the shots where you come from. But around here, I tell folks what to do.”

“Give it to me.” Din said, stepping forward. The other shot glass, still full, rippled ever so slightly from his steps. “Or I will.”

“We’re gonna do this in front of the kid?” Cobb asked.

“He’s seen worse.” Din said.

“Right here then?”

“Right here.”

There was complete stillness, and Din wanted to turn and tell the kid to find some cover, because while he was semi-confident Cobb wouldn’t purposefully hurt the kid, he didn’t want any stray bullets to end up where they shouldn’t. He didn’t dare move, though, his fingers twitching ever so slightly, ready to outdraw Cobb the moment he made a move.

The universe must have decided they were taking too long, because the ground started to shake, and they both broke eye contact, temporarily distracted by the more immediate situation. 

Cobb frowned, and motioned for Din to wait, going to the entrance and peeking out. Din followed, seeing people shrieking, rushing to get off the sand and inside. Lizards, spiders, and other desert life scuttled for cover, and the various pack animals who knew what was coming suddenly went still, though their eyes were white with fear. Even the Razor Crest was still, seeming to sense that for once, his fellow equines had the right idea.

Outside the town, the sand shifted as though it had turned to water, and something big traveled towards them, just hidden under the sand. It moved through the center of the town like a massive whale, churning up sand and dirt. The Crest whinnied when it passed by, and Din thought he saw spine rise out of the sand before disappearing once again.

There was a fat donkey at the edge of town, face buried in a water trough. The thing churning the sand suddenly disappeared, and everything was still.

A mule brayed something-a warning, perhaps-and something burst from the ground. 

It was massive, with a reptilian head and teeth the size of a rifle. It opened its mouth and swallowed the donkey before the poor animal even had time to look up. With a satisfied bellow, it sunk back into the sand, as though it had never existed.

Cobb frowned. “Maybe we can work something out.”

*** *** ***

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelago was established,” Cobb said, walking alongside Din while the kid chased lizards. “Thanks to the pendant and bandana, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and the Indians. They look to me to protect them. But that sand dragon is too much for me to take down alone.”

He stopped, leaning against a wall. “Help me kill it, and I’ll give you the pendant and bandana.”

“Deal.” Din said, a bit bemused with how easily he took in the existence of sand dragons. Then, he had been caring for a magic child for some time. A dragon wasn’t the craziest thing out there.

“Great,” Cobb smiled. “Lucky for you, I know where it lives.”

“How far?” Din asked.

“Not far,” Cobb smiled. “Mount that beast of your’s. We’re taking a trip.”

*** *** ***

“You don’t understand what it was like. The town was on its last legs.” Cobb said, riding an Arabian that reminded Din achingly of Ellie, Isaiah Green’s graceful mare. He wondered vaguely if Cara still had her. He hoped so.

“It started after we got news of Appatomax, nearly two weeks after it happened,” Cobb said. “The rebels were pulling out of Tatooine, and there was Union reparation and help in Mos Eisley. The occupation was over.”

He frowned. “We didn’t have time to celebrate. That very night, the Mining Collective moved in. Power hates a vacuum, and Mos Pelgo essentially became a slave camp overnight. I lit out. Took what I could from the invaders, and ran, no food, no water, not even a mount. I grabbed a bag, and I didn’t even know it was filled with refined silver.”

“Though you can’t very well eat silver,” He chuckled. “I wandered for days. Nearly died. Guess Jesus figured he owed me a solid, because next thing I know, I ran into a traveling market. Russian, if you can believe it. They wanted the silver, and were willing to trade me anything for it. I saw they had the pendant and bandana, and, well…” He smiled. “You can imagine what the Mining Collective thought when they saw a _vaquero_ run into their dinky operation.”

Din opened his mouth to say something, and then paused, hearing a growl echo through the mountain foothills they were traveling through. Cobb yanked his Arabian to a stop, looking nervous, hand trailing to his gun. 

Around a rock, a huge dog with shaggy orange fur emerged, hackles raised, snarling. Cobb drew his pistol, but paused when suddenly dogs emerged from all around, different shapes and sizes, but all snarling, waiting for the cue to attack.

Din stared at the first dog, and paused. The dog was not foaming, or twitching, so it wasn’t rabid. None of the dogs seemed rabid. In fact, they seemed like they were in prime health. Their coats were shiny and clean (or as clean as they could be in the desert) and their teeth were white and whole.

It wasn’t a marauding pack of feral hounds. Someone loved these dogs.

Din whistled, high pitched, and the orange dog paused, ears pricking up slightly. Cobb looked at Din like he was crazy, and Din hopped off the crest, holding his hand out to the dog. 

“ _Good boy_.” He said in Navajo.

Instantly, the dog’s demeanor changed, and it whined, tail wagging with happiness at the praise, practically vibrating with excitement. “Good boy.” Din said, in English, and that was all the dog needed to hear. It trotted over to Din, panting happily when he scratched the dog’s ears vigorously. The hound flopped onto it’s back, begging for attention.

Two tall Navajo men stepped out from behind a rock, looking somewhat embarrassed by the dog’s easy loyalty flip. The dog yipped, rushing back to its masters, and they gave it a small chunk of meat for its efforts. 

“ _We mean you no harm_ ,” Din said. “ _We’re here to kill the monster._ ”

“ _How do we know you are not here to take our people?_ ” One of the men asked.

“ _I have no quarrel with your people. None of us do. The monster has caused much suffering. I suspect it has for you as well. We want to end that._ ” Din said, and it was very hard to sound serious when another dog was nudging his hand, whining for attention. 

The two men looked at each other. “ _Very well,_ ” One said. “ _We can see you are a noble warrior with a good heart. Our dogs do not like those who have bad intentions. We will do what we can to help you kill the monster._ ”

“Hey, partner,” Cobb asked hesitantly. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“We’ve got ourselves some allies.” Din said.

*** *** ***

The kid sat close to Din while he spoke with the Navajo people, leaning against him, glancing nervously at the dogs every now and then. Din had his arm around their shoulder, long done trying to keep up any illusions of non-attachment. 

“This is ridiculous.” Cobb said, and Din glanced at him warningly.

“I’d be careful,” Din said. “They barely tolerate you. They know about Mos Pelgo. They know how many of their people you’ve killed or driven from their homes.”

“They were the ones who raided our village!” Cobb protested. “I defended our town!”

“Lower your voice.” Din said.

“ _I don’t wish to speak with him around._ ” One man said.

“ _Sorry, just-_ ” Din glared at Cobb. “You’re agitating them.”

“This is a bad idea.” Cobb said, and stood up too quickly.

Half the tribe was on their feet, shouting at Cobb. “They can’t be reasoned with!” Cob snarled. “Get back before I put a hole through you!”

“ENOUGH!” Din leapt to his feet, and a dog yipped.

“ _We can’t kill the monster on our own._ ” Din said. 

“What’d you tell them?” Cobb asked.

“Same thing I’m telling you,” Din said. “If we fight amongst ourselves, the dragon will kill us all.”

“Now,” Din sat back down, and the kid immediately leaned against him again. “We need a plan.”

*** *** ***

Din squinted against the sun, watching one of the Navajo men carefully step up to the mouth of an open cave, mule in hand. The other two Navajo men, watching with Din up above, whispered to each other, and Cobb looked doubtful. 

“They say it lives in there,” Din pointed to the cave. “It sleeps. They’re laying out a mule to protect their settlement. If the dragon eats, it sleeps.”

“But it’s been coming into our town.” Cobb said.

“ _Maybe you should feed it some of your precious rocks._ ” One of the men said, and they chuckled.

“What did he say?” Cobb asked.

“He said ‘That’s strange, we should definitely kill it then.’” Din lied, shifting himself to get a better view. The man below tied the mule to a rock, and paused. After a moment of preparation, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted as loud as he could into the cave. Before the sound even fully left his lips, he was running.

The ground rumbled, and from the mouth of the cave, the dragon appeared, mouth open and ready. The mule brayed, but the dragon slid right past it, swallowing the Navajo man whole, and then diving back under the sand.

The two Navajo men blinked, looking horrified and shocked. “ _That doesn’t usually happen._ ”

The kid whimpered, and the mule began to trot away, the disturbance having freed it. “They might be open to some fresh ideas.” Din said.

*** *** ***

“For the record,” Cobb said. “I’ll thank you not to volunteer my own village as reinforcements next time.”

“We need more people.” Din shrugged.

Cobb sighed. “Look, most people around these parts don’t have a sunny view of the locals. They attacked us about a year ago. Killed half a dozen of us by the mining camp. I’d say I took down about twice as many of them.”

“Well, then I suppose they’ll need their sheriff to convince them,” Din shrugged, pulling the Razor Crest into a walk as they entered the village. “My guess is they’ll listen to reason.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Cobb said. 

*** *** ***

“This here,” Cobb gestured to Din. “Is a _vaquero_. Do you know what that means?”

“We’ve heard the stories.” Weequay said, and the gathered townspeople muttered their agreement. 

“Then you know how good they are at killing,” Cobb said. “Now, this one’s got a problem. I got myself a salvaged pendant and bandana, and the _vaquero_ creed says it’s his to take. But, perhaps luckily, I’ve got a problem too. The sand dragon has been peeling off our pack animals, and sometimes, our mining haul with it. It’s just a matter of time before it gets tired of mules and goes after one of our townsfolk. Or, so help me God, the school.”

The crowd muttered again, this time with more fear. “Now as much as I like these things,” Cobb said. “I like this town even more. The _vaquero_ is willing to help us kill the dragon in exchange for the pendant.”

“Well, that settles it.” Weequay said, looking satisfied.

“There’s more,” Cobb said, and sighed. “We can’t take on the dragon alone. And the Indians are willing to help.”

Immediately, the crowd broke into shouts of refusal and accusations of the Navajo people’s crimes, and Din stepped forward. “I’ve seen the size of that thing,” He said. “It will swallow your entire town when the fancy hits it. You’re lucky Mos Pelgo isn’t rubble already. I know these people. They’re tough. But so is the desert. They’re survived, thrived in these parts for thousands of years, and they know the dragon better than anyone here. They keep their word. We’ve struck a deal. If we are willing to let them keep the carcass and ichor, they will stand by our side in battle, and will never raise a hand against this town again. Unless one of you breaks the peace first.”

Their silence was an agreement. A reluctant one, but an agreement was all they could hope for.

*** *** ***

“Think it’ll work?” Cobb asked, watching the townspeople collect supplies. 

“Hope so,” Din said. “Joining forces is our only hope.”

Din heard a whinny, and looked up.

Slowly, over the rise, a line of Navajo men came into view, dogs at their sides. Their faces were stoic, but they carried no weapons. When they arrived, they began to help load supplies without a word.

The peace didn’t last long.

A Navajo man stumbled, nearly dropping a large box. “Hey hey!” A man snapped. “What the hell are you doing?! That’s an explosive, you trying to blow this place up?!”

The Navajo man scowled, but this time, Cobb stepped between the two. “Hey, hey,” He said to the townsman. “It was an accident, take it easy.”

“What do you want to do-” The man started, but Cobb glared.

“It was an accident! Drop it!” Cobb snapped, and after a moment, the man huffed, going back to his tasks. 

The tension was tangible, and Cobb sighed. “This’ll go great.”

*** *** ***

The journey to the home of the dragon was short enough, but horribly silent. Even the animals didn’t get along. The Navajo horses would snort when the town mules got too close, and vice versa.

The dragon was sleeping when they arrived, and Din could feel the vibrations of its breathing through the sand. 

“The Navajo say the belly is the only weak spot,” Din said. “So we need to hit it from below. We only have one shot. So we have to make it count. We have to bury the charges at the mouth of the cave. Then, wake it up. It has to be angry enough to charge. Once its far enough out, and the belly is above the explosives, we hit the detonator.” 

Wordlessly, they began to dig a pit along the edges of the dragon’s immediate reach, laying down crate of explosives after crate of explosives. And they had a lot of explosives. It was a mining town, after all.

Din hopped off the Razor Crest, letting the horse wander and graze on the tough shrubs. The mustang was smart enough to know bolting was a death sentence. They were in the middle of nowhere, and the dragon would sense him. 

“And you,” Din turned to the kid, and pointed at a steep cliff face. “You stay there. No coming down. I’m serious.” He leaned down slightly, whispering. “I don’t think your tricks are going to be able to do anything against that thing.”

The kid frowned, and for a second, Din thought he might protest. But then they kicked a rock, and started to trek up to safe, higher ground.

“This better work.” Cobb said.

Din said nothing.

*** *** ***

Three Navajo men stepped up to the mouth of the cave, clutching their rifles tightly, though what good they would do against the beast, Din had no idea. 

In unison, they cupped their hands around their mouths and began to shout. The sounds echoed off the mountains, building and building until it was overshadowed by a long rumble, and a low, irritated growl.

The men were already running when the sand shifted, and the dragon poked its great head out of the ground, snarling, searching for the fools that dared to disturb it. Instantly, the other Navajo men began to fire on the dragon, antagonizing it, and the townspeople followed their lead. Two of the shouters got away; one did not.

The dragon growled, sounding almost amused, and began to slide away. “ _Los dioses nos ayuden_ , it’s going back in!”

The others seemed to have realized this, shouting challenges at the dragon, continuing to shoot at it in an attempt to convince it they were worth the time. “I’m gonna hit it.” Cobb said, holding the detonator.

“No, wait!” Din said. “We only have one shot. We have to get it out.”

The dragon bellowed, lunging out suddenly, nearly swallowing several townspeople. But it did not come any further out of the cave. “Now?” Cobb asked.

“Almost.” Din said, hoping the dragon would come. Cobb’s finger was getting twitchy. 

The dragon inched ever so slightly closer, opened its mouth-

A stream of foul smelling green bile sprayed out, and doused a few unlucky people. Instantly, they fell to the ground, sizzling. They barely had time to scream before they were little more than a puddle of flesh. 

“Shit-” Cobb looked at the detonator.

“Not yet!” Din snapped, although the acid vomit had rattled him too. The dragon slithered forward, and Din nodded. “Now!”

Cobb hit the button, and the dragon screamed as the ground under it suddenly exploded, obscuring it completely within the dust cloud.

There was quiet for a moment, but Din merely felt dread build in his stomach. “I don’t think it’s dead.” Cobb said.

“Me either.” Din agreed.

The Razor Crest whinnied, and the rock formation above the cave suddenly burst as the dragon forced its head through, roaring in fury. It sprayed out more acid, the high position allowing it to dissolve at least a dozen people at once. Panic gripped the people, and they scattered.

“It’s picking us off like flies,” Cobb said, grabbing the reins of his Arabian. “Come on!” 

Din whistled, and the Razor Crest whinnied again, always eager for a fight. He ran at Din, full speed, and Din swung up into the saddle with what was now practiced ease. It was also much easier when his ribs weren’t broken.

The Crest easily outran the Arabian, dodging the acid vomit, taunting the dragon. He hauled up the rock, somehow always managing to find the perfect foothold. The Crest skidded to a stop next to the dragon’s head, and Din began shooting at it, aiming for the eyes. 

Cobb joined him soon after. “This ain’t doing a thing!”

“Just keep shooting!” Din shouted.

The dragon turned to them, more irritated than hurt, and the Crest galloped away as the dragon lunged at them, getting a mouthful of mountain. They made their way down to the base of the mountain, and the Crest whinnied a challenge as the dragon disappeared back into the mountain. Din trained his gun to the front of the cave, ready for the dragon to lunge. 

Instead, the roar came from behind, and the dragon burst from the sand, picking off the panicking Navajo and townspeople one by one. If Din didn’t know better, he might have said the dragon was enjoying this.

He saw a struggling mule, tied to a withered tree, and a dangerous idea formed in his head. A stupid idea, really. 

“Get it’s attention!” Din told Cobb.

“Whatever you say.” Cobb muttered, and knelt down, taking careful aim. He fired a single shot, and the dragon suddenly screamed, missing an eye. It turned to them, and began to charge. 

“Okay! Now what?!” Cobb asked, and Din hopped off the Razor Crest.

“You have the detonator?” Din asked.

“Take it!” Cobb handed it to him. “Now what?!”

“Take care of the kid.” Din said. 

“Wha-” Din didn’t wait for the reality to set in for Cobb, whacking the Arabian’s rump. The horse whinnied, and took off, a startled and shouting Cobb in tow.

Din went to shove the Razor Crest, but the mustang merely pinned his ears and stood his ground, unwilling to leave Din behind. “Stubborn bastard.” Din muttered, but he was beyond grateful for the Crest’s loyalty. 

He grabbed the mule, feeling a bit guilty, but the way things were going, the mule’s second best choice was death by acid. The Razor Crest screamed another challenge to the dragon as it reared up, diving down-

-and swallowing all three whole.

The kid went dead still in his hiding place, not daring to breathe.

And then the ground rumbled, and the dragon burst from the ground with a pained scream before it jerked, bits and pieces of it flying everywhere-along with Din and the Razor Crest.

The Crest immediately jumped to his feet, bucking wildly to prove to the world that he was still alive, and also to get dragon meat off himself. Din stood shakily, dizzy and nauseous, fairly certain he would never forget the smell of the dragon’s insides. 

He stumbled when the kid suddenly appeared in front of him, lunging forward and hugging him tightly. “Hey, kid.” Din said, voice a little hoarse, and then gagged as the smell hit him again.

Cobb laughed, and townspeople and Navajo alike broke out into cheers over the slain dragon.

*** *** ***

“Sorry,” Din told Cobb, packing the Razor Crest for the journey back to Tatooine. “I didn’t have time to explain.”

Cobb chuckled. “No need. This was well-earned.” He took off the pendant and bandana, and handed them to Din. 

“It was my pleasure.” Din shook Cobb’s hand, and the Crest snorted, eager to leave.

“I hope our paths cross again.” Cobb said.

“As do I.” Din said, helping the kid onto the Crest. He mounted after them, pocketing the pendant and bandana, vowing to put the items to rest. 

He nudged the Razor Crest, and despite everything, the mustang set off in a gallop, kicking up dust as though running on winged feet, the desert sun glinting off the golden pendant the kid kept close to his heart.

And none of them noticed the scarred, old man staring at them in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my tumblr!  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/toadintheroad


End file.
